“Your mother is getting on my nerves,” I say to Houston as I cut up the chicken breast. “Anastasia could have been hurt.”
“She’s putting all this effort into getting her way. I don’t know why she doesn’t just tell me what she wants?”
“Because that would be simple. And gods forbid your mother do something the simple way.” I watch Houston study the instructions on the side of the box of rice. “The instructions didn’t change from the last two times you read it.”
“I don’t want to screw it up. This guy is somebody important, right?”
“He’s just a witch like us. And it’s boil in the bag, Houston. You would have to actively try in order to mess it up.”
“Why don’t you just make pasta? That’s simple. We’ve got jars of sauce and—”
“I am not serving spaghetti sauce from a jar to someone who live
